The Fish Kisser by James Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page A

of cocoa would be very welcome. Sorry about the Serg and the others, I think they’ve had a drop too much. I’ll sort them out later, but I thought you would want to know that I believe the man you’re looking for is named Roger LeClarc.”
    The captain stopped mid-pour. “Could you tell me why you think it’s him?”
    â€œWell, it’s pretty hush-hush but, basically, we’ve had him under surveillance for the past week or two. He was on the ship but disappeared just about the time this guy went overboard. I’ve looked everywhere and can’t find him.”
    â€œIs he dangerous?” enquired the captain, getting the wrong end of the stick.
    â€œOh, no … He’s not in trouble … Well, maybe he is,” Bliss added reflectively. “But he’s not wanted—not by us anyway.” He paused, sensing the confusion on the captain’s face. “Sorry, I can’t really tell you more at the moment, but with your permission I’d like to make some enquiries, see if I can find out what happened, that sort of thing.”
    â€œWell, I’d appreciate your assistance to be honest. Huh … I didn’t catch your name?”
    â€œBliss, Sir. Detective Inspector David Bliss. Serious Crime Squad.”
    His warrant card, produced from a black leather pouch, was brushed aside. “Fine, you go ahead. Oh, you’d probably like to start with the guy who saw him go over. I’d appreciate your opinion to be honest. He seems a bit vague.”
    The chief officer led D.I. Bliss to the Officer’s ward-room and found Nosmo King cleaning the gaps in his teeth with a fingernail.
    â€œMr. King tells me he used to be a policeman. Isn’t that right, Sir?” said the officer with a condescending tone, leaving King squirming as uncomfortably as a patient with dirty underwear in a doctor’s waiting room, and wishing he’d found some other way to stop the ship—sabotage perhaps? He started to rise, but Bliss waved him down. “What force?”
    â€œThames Valley, but only for awhile—Oxford.”
    Bliss pulled up a chair and reminisced, “I did a course once with a bloke from Oxford …” then cut himself short. “Tell me what happened, what you saw, Sir,” he said, the policeman in him taking command.
    King’s account, now well practised, omitted only one detail; his meeting with Motsom in the bar following Roger’s disappearance, before the fiasco with the life raft and his brush with catering assistant Jacobs.
    â€œSo where were you before you went on deck?” asked Bliss, unaware of the timing of events, recognizing King as one of the men in the bar.
    â€œJust wandering around really. Here and there, you know.”
    â€œIn the bar?” asked Bliss, his tone offering no clue as to the correct response.
    â€œNo,” he shot back, much too quickly, much too aggressively. Instantly regretting the boldness of his statement, he tried to soften the punch. “I don’t think so … I don’t think I was in the bar … but,” he added, covering all his bases, “I suppose I might have popped in at sometime.”
    Bliss, confounded, couldn’t fathom a reason for King’s wavering, or why he would lie—unless it
had
been a lover’s tiff and King was embarrassed. “Funny,” he said, “I could’ve sworn I saw you in there with another bloke.”
    Perspiration reappeared on King’s upper lip, his mouth dried, and his legs crossed themselves without any conscious thought on his part. “You … you must be mistaken,” he choked, but as he said it, his right hand flew toward his mouth, attempting to gag the lie. Realising what was happening, King consciously diverted his hand, giving his ear an unnecessary tweak.
    Gotcha! thought Bliss, recognizing the tell-tale gestures of a liar, and pressed his advantage, asking again about